It Took The Pickle!!!

Ok...this is a little late in the writing, but let's go back to Thanksgiving last year.  It'll be worth the trip, guaranteed.

My daughter hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for the family at her home; everyone brought their favorites and she certainly had a few of her own to share.  One of her specialties is a very Southern way to fix yams.  She learned how to do it when she was going to college in Dallas, Texas, from one of her best friend's mom.  It's so simple and so good that I do it the same way now.  Simply peel the yams, cut them up in nice sized pieces, put them in a nice stainless steel pan, cover them with sugar (white sugar, mind you) and put the pan in the refrigerator overnight.  You see the sugar somehow turns into a light sugar syrup overnight - it must leech out some of the moisture in the yams as the hours go by.  Now to cook them you add absolutely nothing, place the pan on the burner, medium heat, and watch your yams like a hawk, turning them over gently, as the sugar syrup becomes a gooey lovely thick sugary goodness coating your yams - cook until tender.  Oh my Oh my Oh my!  Well we look forward to this dish now every year,,,,maybe twice a year for Thanksgiving AND Christmas, if we're lucky!

So.....now.........as Paul Harvey would say,,,,,,,,"For the rest of the story...."

Remember the part about peeling the yams?  Well, when my daughter peeled them,,,,somehow,,,,,alllllll of the peelings went into the garbage disposal at the same time,,,,and,,,,,oh,,,,you are already figuring out what took place?  Genius that you are!

Yep.  In the rush of things, sometimes we don't get all of our ducks in their proper row....and these peelings certainly weren't in theirs. We, of course, didn't hear about this story, until the Thanksgiving meal had been eaten and enjoyed by all....the story was saved for the end of the evening - so much the sweeter to savor -- and to laugh at!

Yes, you also may recall at the beginning of this little tale, I said the yams are prepared the night before.  So here they are, my daughter and family (husband included) getting the house ready, cooking, cleaning, doing a million little things that they would be doing to prepare for guests - basically us - family!  And wearing themselves out in the doing, noooooo doubt.  That's my daughter allright!

So.....back to the yams ...... when......my daughter turned on the garbage disposal after peeling alllllll those yams......yep ------ CLOGSVILLE!

JAMMED THAT PUPPY RIGHT UP!!

In comes hubby.....who now...in the dead of night.....has to get under the sink and play plumber!  He has to completely take apart the plumbing,,,,,unjam all the peelings that have found a lodging place where they ain't 'upposed to be....and put the whole thing back together again !  It was late.  Seriously late.  Hubby was not all that happy.  Neither was wife.

Uhhhhh....sooooooo now that the plumbing is back together,,,,,now that the sink seems to be in proper order again,,,,,the question is....does the bloody garbage disposal work?  Can we trust it?  Well,  I guess we better test it out then, right?  (You can imagine this conversation between wife and hubby - that's your job.)  Sooooo,,,,,wife grabs something to put down the disposal,,,,what that something was,,,,,but let's pretend it was a stalk of celery, ok?  "NOOOoooooo," hubby says,,,,,,"not that!"  (Whatever it was,,,,,onion peels maybe? I don't know - it was not a good thing, on that we can be assured.) "Something SOFT!" he adds. "OK," wife says,,,,,,,"let's try a pickle!"

A PICKLE!

Of course!

A PICKLE!

So,,,,pickle it was.

And pickle disappeared -------- down the garbage disposal and down the drain!

I believe the last words that were uttered in the kitchen that night were:

"OH THANK GOD!  HONEY, IT TOOK THE PICKLE!!!!!"

Making a Job Out of Looking for a Job

My grandsons are looking for work and having a hard time of it.

It's a difficult task to find a job these days. Soooo many out of work. Sooooo many looking for work.  Foreclosures everywhere, people struggling to eat, let alone pay the rent or their mortgage payment.

My grandsons are not alone.

Recently I wrote both of my grandsons, who are adults now, and experiencing the difficulties of finding a job in the current economy...the following:


My new roommate, who just recently got work, said she hunted for a job for four months....but she got a good job at the Walmart Neighborhood Market just 1/2 mile from our house...and she is doing good.  She said anytime she was in the car with her boyfriend,,,and saw a place that looked promising she would ask him to stop and she would go in and get and application. 

There were times when my daughter was in high school, and I HAD to support her, that I was without a job, and so sick I could barely get around,,,,,but I got the Sunday newspaper at 4 pm on Saturday when it came out, and I got out a legal notepad, and began to CUT OUT the job listings and PRIORITIZE them, gluing them to my legal pad, according to who wanted to have you come in on Monday morning and get an application, and who wanted you to come in on Tuesday and bring your resume, who just wanted you to mail in a resume, and so on and so on......

So, every Saturday and Sunday I made a JOB of looking for a JOB, and every Monday morning I was set, organized, and I 'hit the bricks.'  And THAT'S what MY DAD told me to do.......he always said,,,,,,"Keep turning over those rocks."  He meant,,,,keeeeep looking,,,,,keeeeep at it,,,,,don't give up,,,,,something will happen, if you do your part. 

During the depression I was a baby, and my Dad was jobless,,,,,,and he went down to the Union Pacific Railroad freightyards every week, he told me. They finally told him they were going to hire him cause they were sick and tired of looking at him coming in every week.  My Dad RETIRED from the Union Pacific Railroad,,,,and in his later years, he traveled everywhere for them, and had a GREAT position with them.  Funny thing - when I went to get the WorkSource link that I had told my grandsons about....there was an item about the Union Pacific Railroad right on their front page :o) Made me smile.

And as for me,,,,,,when I was just 21 years old.....I applied for a bookkeeping position at the Eugene Register-Guard, the local newspaper in Eugene Oregon.  I had an interview for the job, and a short time after the interview I called the man who interviewed me for the position.  I will never forget his name....Mr. Johnston....one of the best managers I ever knew,,,,,,,and this is what he told me.  He said, "You know, I had my choice down to a pick between two people, but Marilyn, since you took the effort and the time to make this phone call to inquire,,,,,,,You've got the job!"  I had that job for several years!  And....the experience there....fitted me for the next good job I got later!

So I told my grandsons, "You are not alone,,,,,but,,,,,,,,,YOU can DO IT!  You've done it before.  And you can do it again.  Everybody has jobs and then they don't have jobs.  But when they don't have a job....it's time to "Make Your Job 'Looking for a Job'."

I love you both.

Grandma Marilyn

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

Children used to have and use 'copybooks' to practice their penmanship. Oh yes, this was in the 'old days' my friends.  Although I am apprised that some homeschoolers are now using "copybooks" in their curriculums and bringing back the concept.  Copybook headings would often be a Proverb from Scripture or maxims, such as the one below.  

 

[Note: Reference image from - http://raisingfutureleaders.blogspot.com/2010/06/freebie-happy-scribe-month-of-june.html]

I had been prompted as I watched a Frances & Friends show on the SonLife Broadcasting Network (Ch. 344 on DirecTV in Portland Oregon :o) to check out a fellow by the name of Curtis Bowers who had apparently made a film entitled "Agenda: The Grinding Down of America."  I found a copy of the DVD at the Clackamas County Library (Multnomah Count Library didn't have it, but I have a library card for both libraries.) and have not viewed it yet, but will be shortly.  However, I did find a YouTube video of Mr. Bowers giving a presentation apparently to a group of folks in a church....in which he describes what brought him to the point in his life where he felt he had to make this film.  It was a case for him - well, you remember the adage that all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing?  He did not want to be "one of those guys" who did nothing.

Now,,,,at the end of Mr. Bowers talk, who, by the way, by every word he spoke, is a sold-out Christian, born again by the Precious Blood of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,,,,and also by the way is a legislator from the state of Idaho,,,,any way,,,,at the end of his talk, Mr. Bowers read the following poem, writtten by Rudyard Kipling.

 Again, I found myself so taken by a poem and the power of its meaning that I had to make it part of my blog.  And so,,,,,,here is the poem -  

 The Gods of the Copybook Headings

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

  

...And She Was Insured, Too!

The day I bought my Lincoln Town Car Cartier was a very special day for me.  It was used, but then, in so many ways, so am I. But it is beautiful...yes, to this day, still.  Today someone driving thru in my local gas station actually sideswiped my right exterior rear-view mirror while I was parked at the pump, altho upon inspection, no damage was observed; we shook hands, and departed from one another.

But this is about another story where my lovely, Diamond White Lincoln Town Car Cartier, was hit while I was parked, and a whole lot more than the right rear-view mirror was sideswiped.

It was a lovely evening, perfect weather. There was a lot going on in my
neighborhood; much of it on Mississippi Ave., which has become a haven for all the yuppies around. Lots of little eateries and places to get those microbrews Portland, Oregon is so famous for.  Two friends and myself decided to have dinner in a nearby Thai cafe.  We drove up to Mississippi Ave in the Town Car, parked on a corner across from the cafe and went inside to eat.  On our way in to the cafe we could hear voices, laughter and music coming from a nearby beer garden further down the block. Yes, an excellent night for outdoor festivities.  There would be outdoor fun going on all up and down Mississippi Avenue this night. Like I said, perfect weather.

We all went in the Town Car, parked on a corner across from the cafe and went inside to eat. We chose a table very near a secondary door which opens out onto the street away from the main entrance to the restaurant.  Shortly after we had been served our dinner selections, this very side door nearest the street burst open and a woman came in, asking in rather a loud voice, "Does anyone in here own a white Lincoln?"

Uhhhhh......I intoned, barely able to catch my breath, "I do."

The woman came to our table and said, "I just hit your car."

Now I absolutely cannot catch my breath. 

This dear woman said quickly that she had insurance and wrote down her name and her insurance company, her driver's license number, and what other pertinent facts we needed to share, and together we left the restaurant to see what had transpired.  The entire right side of my Lincoln Town Car, from the rear fender to the front fender, side rear-view mirror laying in the street, was crumpled, battered, bruised, torn-up!  The woman had an older Cadillac and had attempted to park at the rear of the next corner (I was parked in the last spot at the front of the block on the corner across from the restaurant.). Mind you, these two blocks and their combined corners were slightly offset, the one she was aiming for a little further in than the one where I was parked.  Apparently, as she began to pull her long Caddy into her spot,,,,,she just misjudged and it being twilight to dark now, she just --- well ---- she made a mess of things.  At first she was fearful, saying she would just pay for the damages...but little did she realize that she had done nearly $5,500 in damage to my car (that was the final bill).  Fortunately, her insurance company had the matter well in hand, and in the end, everything was paid for.  I have a great recommendation for body work by the way.  Bob Thomas CarStar!  Those guys are AWESOME!

To add flavor to this story, listen to this.  This dear lady told us, my friends and I, that she had no idea where to find the owner of the car after she hit it. She said she had no idea what to do...hearing all the festivities going on in the area, like I said, there were parties everywhere at all the outdoor brew fests in the vicinity...and even admitted she didn't even really want to try that hard to find the owner...since she just felt it was going to be a hopeless impossibility - BUT - she said she had ordered take-out from the very restaurant we were dining in - and something just told her to blurt it out when she came in to the place, "Does anybody in here own a white Lincoln?"

This is a pretty good sized restaurant, by the way, kind of L-shaped....and Who arranged it so that WE would be sitting right at the table nearest that side entrance door,,,,,the one I never use, by the way....I always came in the front entrance, which is all the way on the other side of the building...but for SOME reason,,,,we were seated exactly adjacent to that side entrance door!

Are you smiling yet?

Are you knowing Who my protector and provider is yet?

Amen if you said the Lord, Jesus Christ, and His Father, my God!

And to finish this little tale off with the perfect ribbon bow -- my Lincoln had been T-boned about a year previous. The repairs were to the hood, driver's side fender, and driver's side door.  The paint job, though particularly admirable and even explained to me how it was a 3-coat job plus clear coat (hey this is a fancy car, what can I say...Cartier is the top of the line in Lincoln Town Cars - there aren't that many of them even out there I discovered...but the Lord gave me one.)...and even though that was some find paint job -- if you looked at the side in just the right light at just the right angle - yeah, you could tell the difference between the driver's side door and front fender, and the left rear door and left rear fender.  I guess He just wasn't satisfied with that, and orchestrated another little bit of business so that the entire left side would be repaird and painted so that all the left side would match.

Ok.

That's just my theory.  But don't we know that our God really is a God of details?

I do.

 

Fear No More the Lightning Flash

I was watching The Forsyte Saga, a BBC mini-series starring Damian Lewis (Emmy winner for best actor - "Homeland").  There was a funeral depicted for the elderly uncle and I heard part of this poem, "Fear no more the lightning flash" ---- and it just struck me and I wanted to hear the whole poem. I found it easily enough so here it is.

Fear No More

Fear no more the heat o' the sun;
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

         ~~William Shakespeare

"Find Someone To Sit With You"

I've been watching "Wallander" -

a series about a police investigator named Wallander, starring Kenneth Branagh, one of my favorite actors. I just watched "Conspiracy" several days ago - the story of a meeting of high-ranking Nazi German officials who planned the "Final Solution," that is, the extermination of the Jews from Europe en total, and Germany in particular.  His character, Reinhard Heydrich, was a spot-on portrayal of a true sociopath.

But...back to "Wallander."

Branagh's character, a troubled man, policeman with a conscience and compassion, struggling to always "do the right thing" not only for himself but for others, has an aging father in the story.  His father, a brilliant man in his own right, is suffering from dementia, and as he flip-flops between reality and his brain-deprived view of what is really happening to him and around him, has these moments of true lucidity that just make you grab an extra helping of air in order to capture the moment.
                                                                                             
Povel, Kurt Wallander's father in the series, played by David Warner, an actor with over 200 movie titles to his own credits, is quite ill and has just asked his son to take him home. He doesn't wish to die in a bed alone in some hospital ward.  When they arrive at Povel's home, a lovely spot by the sea, Kurt gets out of the car and says he'll open the studio. Povel has always been a painter, landscapes were his passion, and they are beautiful paintings. He spent most of his time in the studio. But Povel says "No, ahhhh, finished. Just wanna sit." He turns to Kurt and says, "You don't look do you? You don't look at the world. You just drive straight through it. Stop. And look."  He adds, "Go on, off you go. I'll be all right." Povel heads toward the sea shore to a familiar spot, a lovely wooden bench overlooking the sea. His wife says to Kurt, "I'll sit with him." Povel turns once again and speaks to Kurt. "Find someone to sit with you. You're not strong enough to do it on your own. Nobody is. Find someone to sit with you."

You Know Jesus.....?

If it's not one thing, it's something else.  Lately almost every single morning the phone has begun to ring....8:20 a.m.; 8:30 a.m.; and so on.  I have noticed the numbers are all unknown to me. And, again, more calls throughout the day, from all these 'unknown numbers.' Well, with a roommate or two, that is bound to happen, but even those numbers that my roomies are receiving calls from become somewhat familiar after a while. 

Not the case with these.

Here's the thing.

8:20 a.m. is not my best time of day.

I need coffee and some quiet time before I talk to people at 8:20 a.m. in the morning.  I think some of you know what I mean.  Come on, I'm retired. I earned the right! Done paid my dues!

I have answered one or two of these unknown callers, not realizing what they were. I recall my roommate mentioning something like, if I didn't recognize the number, don't answer.  Hey! I gotta say....it's a lot of calls coming in from these 'unknown' numbers!  And I really don't want to turn my phone off at night. If my family called with something important,,,,well, you get my point.

So, I prayed about it.

And you know what? I think the Lord gave me a plan.  Sanctioned.  So I decided to implement it.

And now, I answer all the calls with these unknown numbers.  Turns out, by the way, they are the product of some 3rd party marketing with my poor roommate the victim, due to her having to fill out some forms online that likely were necessary to keep her unemployment $ coming in.  Lots of people without jobs right now, don't cha' know.

Anyway, now, I answer all the calls with these unknown numbers ----- uh, like this:

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling from rightjob.com.  Is this...?"

"Oh, hello, rightjob.com.  Uh, I have something to tell you.  You know Jesus?  Jesus?  You know, you know, the Lord?  Jesus?  Well, He told me to tell you not to call again."

"Uhh,,,,uhhh,,,,ok,,,,ok,,,,uhhhh,,,,,uhhh,,,ok,,,,I...uh...I'll make a note of that."

"Bye."

I gotta tell ya. I have noticed a significant decrease in the "unknown number" calls lately.

*S*M*I*L*E*  Thank You, Lord! 

Is There Any Other Toilet Paper In The House?

I live with two roommates, both of whom are great gals.  One of my roomies and I share a bathroom.  We have evolved to keeping a kitty for purchasing some of the essentials-in-common; e.g. paper products, including paper towels, and, of course, toilet paper.  Because I am a member at Costco, I usually pick up the toilet paper in those giant packs with 30 rolls or so, and because of my friend, Sandy, I am now a -- shall we say, fan -- of Charmin' Ultra.  I used to be the gal that just picked up pretty much whatever was on sale at the supermarket.  But Sandy, bless her heart, reframed me.  At Sandy's house the only TP in use in HER bathroom is Charmin' Ultra. I asked her one day about what she used, and she told me, "Only Charmin' Ultra." I asked why. Sandy said, "Because it's realllllly nice!"  She's right. It's nice.  Nice and soft and yea, just nice.  If this is beginning to sound like an ad for Charmin' Ultra, I have no excuse.  I began to buy Charmin' Ultra at Costco, and to date, almost, that be that. The roomies chip in to the kitty and off I go to make the purchase.  Maintaining that level of satisfaction, yes, we have been happy bathroom campers!

We were getting low on that necessary item recently, and I happened to mention I was going to pick some up soon and would be using the kitty to do so. (Oh, the kitty. Right. We each put in $10 a month. That pretty much covers our "essentials-in-common" as it were.) My roomie that I share the bathroom with said to me, "Oh, I have some in the car. I'll bring it in."  "Oh, ok," say I, and that would be that.  Or so I thought.

My roomie brought in the 'goods' in due time and put the rolls in the bathroom we share.  It was a Safeway brand.  Something 'Softly' I think it said.  In fact, I just checked (we have lots) and it says "Ultra Softly."  Ya think?

(And while I'm on the subject of "lots" - can someone tell my why every package of rolls of TP in the supermarket says things like "9 MEGA rolls = 24 REGULAR ROLLS!"  Does anybody KNOW where those packs of "regular rolls" are? Has anyone ever seen one?)

Anyway,,,,,,back to my story,,,,,I really had to VOW NOT to say anything about my reaction (uhhh literally) to this product replacement, not wishing to be unkind, and frivolous when it comes to my roomie's sensitivities .....but.....as I began to, uh, use, the new paper product available, I noticed something.  My impression regarding "Ultra Softly's" ultra-softliness went out the window along with a slightly, well, shall we say, this side of rude, remark that I really really really DID keep to myself ---- something along the lines of, "Good grief, this stuff is about one shade this side of using newspaper!"

So, I kept quiet.  Patting myself on the back for being a goooood roomie.

Until one day, oh,,,,did you see this coming,,,,,my roomie says to ME........

"Is There Any Other Toilet Paper In The House?"

I fell out laughing, high-fived her and was set free!  I was no longer able to contain myself, nor was I obligated by roomie protocol, to do so, and as I was cracking up,,,,,while I had to sadly tell her "No," and that we were confined to using up the rest of the Safeway "Ultra Softly" - unless, of course, we wished to donate the balance of the "9 MEGA rolls" to the church fellowship hall bathroom.

Which I will do Sunday.

And on the way home, I'll be stopping at Costco.

Sometimes all you need is new windshield wipers....

First of all, I want to extend my thanks to the Gresham Lions Club for my new glasses.

Whereas, with those old glasses I had, I began to notice I was have a difficult time driving at night - couldn't make out shapes very well, oh like parked cars,,,,and people (and I will tell how OLD they were -- the last time I had a prescription filled for glasses was when I was working and had vision insurance - and I retired in 1999.)  It had gotten to the point I had to quit driving at night, and frankly, for the last year, I had to miss my regular Sunday evening worship service at my church all that time.  I was on the Praise Team, and also in the choir, and the choir always sang Sunday evening, so I missed that too.  I did not like any of it one bit.

A friend suggested I contact the Lions Club.  I did.  Well, thanks to the Gresham Lions folks I am driving at night again. Yeayyyyyy !  And have rejoined the choir AND the praise team, and can regularly go to Sunday evening services.  This means a great deal to me.  Gresham Lions Club, I thank you!

After I received approval for my application, I was advised to go to the Mt. Hood Vision center for an exam and for my new glasses.  I just was to say the Mt. Hood Vision folks and Dr. Clay have been great, also.  The whole experience has been a joy and a huge benefit to my own personal quality of life.

The story below however, just goes to show all's well that ends well. 

As I began to test whether my new glasses were really helping me see better at night, I had capable friends ride along with me in my car to and from church...church being the place that I am most likely to find myself going to at night, as it happens. I told my one friend that if it rained, let's just see 'how things go' as it might prove to be a difficulty for me.  It certainly had been so in the past year.  Well, wouldn't you know, living in Oregon, it rained the third time I drove at night.  I spoke to my friend as I began to travel back up the freeway to my exit -- "hmmmmm, I think maybe the next time it rains, you should drive, hon. I'm having a bit of difficulty seeing good."  My friend replied, "Marilyn, I think maybe you need new windshield wipers! These are just smearing the rain around."   I laughed and said, "Hmmmm, maybe that's why I've been wondering about the same thing lately." 

The very next day my friend and I were together again, running errands, and as we drove by Auto Zone, I decided to pulled in and pick up some windshield wipers.  My friend told me they would put them on for me.  Sounded like a good plan!  I shopped a bit, talked to the fellow there, and with his help, I bought some really good windshield wipers.  I told the fellow I needed good ones as I had trouble with my eyes, and he showed me this one set that was "all one piece," which he said made them better.  Convinced, I bought them and he came out and put them on my car.  It was a gloriously beautiful day, the sun was shining and the sky was patchy blue with fluffy clouds; HOWEVER, the minute we drove out of the driveway, and onto the main street, it began to rain GREAT BIG OL' RAIN DROPS! Whooopppeeee I got to turn on my BRAND NEW WINDSHIELD WIPERS no sooner than I had left the parking lot!! I laughed out loud, and said I guessed God wanted to prove to me I needed those darn old windshield wipers and that I should listen to my friends.  He also proved to me once more, He indeed has a sense of humor.  Especially as it resides in my daughter.  I related my "funny story" to her and she cracked up, saying, "Good grief, Mom, all this time you thought your eyes were bad, and all you needed was new windshield wipers."


There ya' go.  My Life!

God Watches Out for His Kids....

....Even at the PDX Airport Arrivals zone !!

Ok...here's the story.

My daughter and son-in-law were coming back from a trip, arriving at the airport at a certain time. Their car was garaged at the airport, so they planned to pick it up after they arrived. I had their daughter, my granddaughter, staying with me until they got back, and the other set of grandparents had their 22 mo. old baby grandson in their care until they got back. My daughter and son-in-law asked we, the two sets of grandparents, to bring the children to the airport and meet them at the Baggage Claim/Arrivals zone when they got in. Not a problem. I've done that little routine many, many times picking up friends and/or family who are coming in from a flight from somewhere.  There's the drive-around business,,,,,you try to arrive at "about" the time they will have already gotten to the baggage claim area and meet them outside after they've picked up their bags.  Likely you will miss them first time around, or 2nd, or more, but, sooner or later you will see them and whoooosh! get your car over into the far right lane and Voila! -- get your party picked up.  It's way easier than parking and going inside the bloody airport....and you....and everyone else....is doing just that....driving around and around til your people show up on the sidewalk outside the baggage claim.

Of course, THIS little venture had a double whammy going for it -- due to the fact that we were transferring kids from Car #1 - namely "me and granddaughter" and from Car #2 - namely "other set of grandparents and that 22 mo. old baby grandson" - to their parents,,,,who would take them to Car #3.....because really, alllll they wanted to do at 7:30 pm was GO HOME with their family!  It had been five days they were away.

All this could have been a bit complicated.  Logistics.  It's all about the logistics.  Wikipedia defines "logistics" thusly: 'Logistics' is the management of the flow of resources, not only goods, between the point of origin and the point of destination in order to meet the requirements of customers or corporations. Logistics involves the integration of information,transportation, inventory, warehousing, material handling, packaging, and often, security."  And, certainly, I had thoughts along those lines.  "Resources:"  I guess you could call we grandparents "resources" who were involved in the management and flow of goods (we had the "goods" all right - two wonderful grandchildren) between the "point of origin:" Yep, baby grandson from the point of origin of one set of grandparents' house (while Mom and Dad were away), and teen granddaughter from the point of origin of the other grandparent's house. The idea being to manage the flow of those goods from the point of origin to the point of destination (the PDX Airport Arrivals Zone) in order to meet the requirements of the "customers:" who in this case are "Mom and Dad."  These "logisitics" involved the integration of information (that means lots of cel phone usage), transportation (that means Car 1 = one set of grandparents with baby grandson in tow; Car 2 = other grandparent with teen granddaughter in tow), inventory (that means keeping careful track of the "goods" in Car 1 and Car 2), and all the rest of it including warehousing, material handling, packaging, and yes, security.  LOGISTICS!

And then the puzzle. How do Car #1 and Car #2 meet up in this cuhrazy scenario with car after car after car lining up 4 to 5 rows deep across the lanes, and Lord only knows how many in a row/line coming up behind you.  How do we? 

Well, I hadn't counted on a couple of things.  And one of them, is how PERFECTLY things can go when GOD shows up.....and.....if you can suspend all disbelief and just.....BELIEVE.......God DOES have a sense of humor!

I pulled into the line near the 'Arrivals' doors for the airline my daughter and son-in-law were coming in on....and there they were, coming out of the doors. And I looked behind me, and immediately (did I say IMMEDIATELY? YES, I DID!) to my rear .... was Car #2 with the other set of grandparents with baby grandson in tow.  And about 25 to 30 cars behind them in the line.  I shook my head once, suspending my OWN disbelief, and my teen granddaughter, jumped out of the car, helped her Dad go get baby grandson, right behind me, and we all waved our love, and .........

That was That!

I laughed and shook my head all the way down the ramp and headed home.

Some Things Never Change !

.....or should I say some people never change


The other evening I had occasion to enjoy a time with a former roommate and good friend of mine and some friends of hers at a charity benefit banquet.  It was a delightful evening....but it had its moments.  Priceless moments, mind you, but moments, nevertheless.....  

Like this one.

I had to lift an eyebrow then furrow it - the other nite when my dear former roommate and some one else at our dinner table went "off" on some kind of "special water" they were drinking that "does everything." 

Miracle water.

Alkaline water.

Ionized water.

Kangen water.

So I researched it this a.m.

It's only $4,000 to get the gizmo that does the "ionizing."  [google kangen water - then add the word 'scam']

And it's an MLM (Multi-Level Marketing).

Oh brother.

Oh and by the way you can't put it in a plastic container cause it eats the plastic.

Really?

Really.

Of course my dear friend was drinking her very special "kangen water" out of her own personal plastic water bottle.  Oooooooops!

http://www.chem1.com/CQ/ionbunk.html

Wish I'd had my wits about me - I would have told them to make Bieler Broth.  Cheaper and it'll alkaline their systems all they need!I learned about Bieler Broth in the late 60's when my youngest daughter was about 6 yo.  You know, the stuff actually works.  If you're sick, make some Bieler Broth. What's it made with? Simple stuff. Green stuff. Green string beans. Zucchini. Parsley. Cook it in some nice water, season it a bit, and blend it up into a nice puree.  Bieler Broth!

"This simple soup restores alkalinity and mineral balance,,,,"

from http://www.threebrancheshealth.com/blog/bielers-broth-for-a-cleanse-detox/

Oh that girl, my former roomie, and her MLM's!

Love that girl, nevertheless. Gotta say. (If you're reading this hon, really, I do. But I could not pass up the opportunity to blog it.)

My Daughter's Dream

My granddaughter was talking to me the other day about listening to God when He tells us the right thing to do. She said, "Some people call it your conscience, but when I hear it, I know it's God." I agreed. And I was reminded of a dream her momma had when she was a little girl, even much younger than my granddaughter, at 12 yo, is now.

I told my granddaughter about the dream, and thought I should write about it in my blog, yet another memory not to be forgotten.

When my daughter was somewhere between the ages of 6 and 8 yo, she came to me one day, and she told me she'd had a dream about Jesus.

I asked her to tell me more. She said, "Well, I dreamed I went into my closet and then I went up."

 I marvel even now at this first part, because what I know about my youngest daughter is that she has always had a prayer-life. I remember when we both worked at the Red Cross at the same time, when break-time came, she was never to be found outside smoking cigarettes with the rest of the staff. No, she closeted herself in one of those small little rooms with a cot where one could go lie down for a bit if not feeling well....and she prayed.

So as she told me about her dream, she said, "I went up, and I met Jesus. He sat me in His lap, Mommy, and He told me right from wrong. And, He had blue eyes."

As it turned out, I remember reading a letter that was supposed to have been written by one of the very Roman soldiers who were present at the crucifixion. He described Jesus and.....he said.....his eyes were blue. I imagine that was of some note, since most of the eyes of people born in Israel at that time would certainly not likely have been blue.

My granddaughter said "How come Mommy never told ME about that dream." I said, "Well, honey, why don't you ask her about it?"

Me? I never forgot her dream.

Thing That Goes Bump In The Night !

Although most of the stories I write for my blog tend to point up the humorous side of life, there are times when I just feel it's time to write about an important something or other that passed our way in order to memorialize the moment and the characters. This story is about Bump, formally known as "Thing That Goes Bump In The Night." It's also about my beautiful and wonderful daughter. Reader, read on.

Bump was our dog back in the day, that day being during the mid-70's. I know. That was along time ago. Yes, it was. But I'm much older now, and if I don't put this down in words, it may not be remembered....at all.

We lived in at the coast in Oregon at the time. My husband, my daughter's dad, was a woodsman. He loved the woods. His prized possession was his great big ol' Stihl chainsaw....and his pickup truck. At that time he was driving a 1952 yellow Dodge pickup. That man loved old trucks and was one fine "shady-tree mechanic". He could always keep 'em runnin'. I do remember (as an aside here I must note this) however, that when those darn trucks broke down, and Joseph had to work on them for hours on end, he would walk into the house, plop down, exhausted, frustrated, and say to us all....."It happened again. I've got those "One Bolt Blues." This was code for a supremely stubborn bolt stuck in one of those ol' rigs that just WOULD NOT come out! And there Joseph would be, him too, stuck, worn out, and he would just have to quit til a better day came along.

Now, Bump always went with my husband when they went to the woods to cut firewood. He rode in the back of the truck, of course. My #1 son, always went with him to the woods, too. They were a team, a mutual admiration society.

Bump was a blond German Shepherd mix....good-sized fellow he was. Not quite as big as a full blood German Shepherd, but almost. He really was quite beautiful, faithful, and loyal. He was definitely bonded with our family. We'd had an incident that had occurred a year or so before we moved to Newport with Bump. That was the night he truly lived up to his name, "Thing That Goes Bump In The Night." I'll tell you about that before I tell you about the 'other thing.'

This part of the story takes place in Depoe Bay, Oregon, where we lived just before we moved to Newport.

One night we all went out for hamburgers at our favorite haunt in Lincoln City (about 13 miles to the north of Depoe Bay), My wonder man hippy husband, my #1 son, 12 yo, my older daughter. 11 yo, my little girl, and myself. My little daughter was about 3 years old. When we got back to our apartment in Depoe Bay, Bump was waiting for us at the top of the stairs on the landing (the stairs being outside the building and the landing being our porch) and was, as always, so happy to see us he was just wiggly all over. My little 3 yo went up the stairs first, with her brother and sister following close behind. The railing along the landing was made of 2x4's, uh, spaced apparently a little tooooo far apart. Bump wiggled, right against my little girl, just as she got to the top of the stairs and onto the landing, and not only knocked her down, but knocked her THROUGH the opening between the bottom slats and the landing / porch flooring. Yes, THROUGH. From two stories up....down this little bit of a little girl went....falling to the asphalt pavement two stories below. My husband was still coming out of the garage, so he was the first to reach her. I was on the stairs and of course, I freaked, running back down and over to her. It was late, very dark out, I remember. I froze. She lay on the ground, her dad was hovering over her, and she wasn't moving. Joseph scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. We called the hospital and asked them what to do. There were no broken bones, and Joseph said her arm was positioned such underneath her that it apparently broke her fall. She had a nasty bump on her forehead, though. The hospital said to absolutely not let her go to sleep, to keep her awake, and bring her to the hospital. We did. They checked her out at Emergency. Well, thank the Lord, my baby girl was released and we were told to watch her closely. The doctor said to keep her awake as much as possible.

We drove home, back to Depoe Bay, and went up the now infamous stairs to our apartment overlooking the bay. When we were back inside the apartment, My husband asked her, "Honey, what do you want?" To which, she immediately answered, "Hamburger and French fries!"

We all laughed. That was our girl.

I think you can probably use your imagination and figure out the rest of the story. Or do I need to do a "Paul Harvey?" Of course, we all piled back in the rig and drove back to Lincoln City (about 13 miles) to the all-night hamburger joint (just north of Taft - wonder if it's still there!) and fixed her right up!  She had a Coke, too. :o)

First of all, I have to attest to the miracle that happened that night. And thank You, Father, for the plans that You had for my daughter, and how the enemy's plans were thwarted that night. I have always also wondered if that fall had something to do with what made my daughter so incredibly smart! As she grew, I really thought she was going to be a lawyer and introduced her at one point to a rather well-known attorney who advocated for kids in our fair city and conducted a TAG class / proxy court for young teens to learn about the law. She's such a wise, extremely intelligent, negotiator! I'm glad she's in my corner against the world! I love you Daughter!

So,,, here we are,,,,and back to Bump's own story.

My husband, as I mentioned, was a woodsman. He always had a job, but he loved to cut firewood on the side. Many's the time we rolled together in one of those old fine rigs into the mountains on some permitted BLM land to cut down trees, chop them up into cordwood, and load that truck to perfectly stacked capacity. Only then would we offload that wood into a giant pile and reload it again with what we called a "throw-on" load. We usually would get three "throw-on" loads out of one trip to the mountains. He sold each one for $85 at the time. It was good work and the whole family participated in one way or another.

As I also mentioned at the beginning of this tale, Bump always rode with my husband and my son to the woods and back.

And as I mentioned too, we were living on the coast in Oregon at the time of this part of the story. We lived in a big ol' two story house, bedrooms upstairs, a boiler turned into a wood-burning stove downstairs in the living room to heat the place. Brother, did I know how to make a good fire.My husband taught me, using the firewood he cut, of course. First start with some fir - burns hot and fast, makes a bed of fiery coals. Then top it with a cross-hatched stack of green alder. I could stack that stove up to it's very tip top with green alder and that sucker would burn allllll night long! Kept our house toasty even in the coldest winter months, and left me a nice bed of hot coals with which to start the morning fire all over again.

And Bump,,,,well, Bump would climb up on the couch in that toasty living room every night after we'd all gone to bed and sleep there. That big' old yellow dog! And every morning when I woke up, I was the first one down the stairs to go put on the coffee for breakfast. The first thing I would do as I was coming down the stairs, seeing ol' Bump on the couch again....was to yell, "BUMP, get off the couch!" Of course, I knew he had been there all night, but still,,,,it was my God-given duty to get that big ol' yellow dog off our sittin' couch, please!

My husband came home from the woods this one day, this one really unhappy day. There was no load of wood in the back of the truck. No. It hurts still, to this day, to say this....No...Bump was in the back of the truck. And Bump was gone. I didn't have to ask my husband what happened. He told us. He said, "I was felling a tree, an alder, and Bump....well, Bump zigged when he should have zagged." He said, "I held him and I watched the life-light go out of his eyes."

Bump was a good dog. We buried him there by the sea in Oregon that afternoon. We cried our tears....funny, there are some even now as I revisit this memory....and the "Paul Harvey" of this story you can also probably figure out.

The next morning, as I came down the stairs, I yelled out loud, "BUMP, get off the...." and with a catch in my throat, I swallowed back the rest of those words, and realized Bump really wasn't there anymore to yell at.

Don't Look - Just Listen!

Just watched a commercial - or rather heard, more than watched - for Ambien CR.

In fact, probably, had I watched it, I would not have heard as clearly as I did....about all the "possible side effects." (Don't you wonder about all those side effects sometimes, anyway? The ones they print in that really tiny print you can't read without a magnifying glass. Or say so fast on the TV you can't possibly catch it all. Uh-huh. I do.)

Well, this time they really got into it...I heard: "You might have abnormal behaviors such as being more outgoing or more aggressive than normal, also confusion, agitation and hallucinations may occur." (Do you suppose that's why they put the rooster in the commercial...just to let you know if you keep seeing a rooster in your office, or in your bedroom, or in the driveway, not to worry; it's just a harmless hallucination, compliments from Ambien CR !)

"If you drink alcohol," the commercial continues, "these behaviors may increase. Oh, and "allergic reactions such as shortness of breath, swelling of the tongue, or throat may occur".....and by the way......"in rare cases.......this may be fatal."

Not to mention, if you take this stuff, the commercial further warns,,,,"you might have dizziness, drowsiness and headache."

(I'm hooked....what? I'm asking....what did they just say? Now I've rewound the tape / DVR.)

There she is....while the voice over is talking about the rotten day you are about to have....you'll probably be dizzy and have a splitting headache, honey.....there she is....the little Ambien gal, waking up to her little sunshiney room, in her cute little pink nightie, and her sassy, wavy bright red hair, smiling and stretching her arms, and oh so pleased with herself for having that great night's sleep. The commercial goes on to warn that if she was depressed, when she takes Ambien CR, she might "become suicidal".....well, that's a small price to pay for that 'good night's sleep', isn't it?

Last, but not in the least bit least, the commercial finally warns, "If you experience any of these behaviors or reactions, contact your doctor immediately."

Wasn't one of the possible behaviors or reactions.........death?

Be sure and contact your doctor immediately, if you have that one!!!

Like Bill Engvall says, "Here's your sign."

Cow Chip Boogie Motorcycle Fest

Recently I had one really great time / experience. Some motorcycle riding friends in the CMA invited me and some of the "boys", our musicians at church (two guitarists, a bassman and our drummer, all of whom have some fine licks to offer) to head up to Castle Rock, Washington to sing for the Sunday morning Christian service at this THANG called the Cow Chip Boogie. We heard it's one of the biggest motorcycle rally/parties in the Northwest. Well there was every kind of motorcycle rider there you can imagine...and they'd all been up the night before until 3 am & more, partying!

The place had a HUGE, covered, fantastic stage, concrete floor covered with a buncha oriental carpets, MEGA amps - way taller than twice or thrice of me - and they said we could use their sound system ! There had been a rock n' roll/metal group playing the night before; in fact, one of them was still on the stage in a sleeping bag, uhhh sleeping it off. ;o) Oh my word! The amps were so powerful they kept setting my car alarm (which car I had parked about 20 ft or so from the stage) off ! I finally figured out what was causing my car alarm to go off repeatedly, and moved the car up the hill!!

Well I have some gospel blues singin' to offer and we had some fine tunes to dress up a Sunday morning service at a motorcycle fest, believe you me! I have one the Lord gave me called "Look For Me, Jesus -- I believe I'll make it home!" We tore it up and had a great time....even if I did have to get up at 4 a.m. to make it up there in time for a 9 a.m. service. I'd do it again in a hot minute.

When we were all the way done, the sound man came up to me and told me more than once I had a beautiful voice. Wow! Hard to stay humble when you receive praise you just didn't expect. I just PRAY that someone heard the message that God DELIVERS!!!!!"

Have you ever heard of Jeff Fenholt? He was on broadway in Jesus Christ Superstar, and sang for a time with Black Sabbath, went thru some hellish times, and then got "born again." He is an awesome, very very down to earth man with some stories that make your hair stand on end. Well, I was on the praise team last Sunday and he was at our church last Sunday as a guest speaker,,,,and after the song service, when he was speaking to the congregation, he lifted his arm and pointed at me, and said...."Great worship service this a.m.....and you, you have a great voice!" Then in the evening service he was in the foyer and asked me if I was going to be on the platform again. When I told him 'no, not tonite',,,,he said he was disappointed, and that he wished I was, and said that I had a great voice...again.

Ok....I gotta tell you, I'll enjoy those two compliments for the rest of my life. Made me smile real big! I love to sing. And I love to bring the dynamic the music calls for to the song!  I love to give the gift He gave to me,,,,back to Him.

Oh brother! ...they coulda taken me away.....

Finally! I have a story to post on my blog.

First of all, my friend, Carol, says it seems like everyone is on edge these days,,,,just plain like...ready to be mad about something and don't even know what.

I think she's right.

And as it turns out, I'm no bloody exception.

Sooooooo.....yesterday, I took Carol and her little dachshund out to Gresham as she was flying out today to go visit her family in southern Cal and little Cooper was staying with friends. I needed to get some gas, and asked Carol where there was a gas station on the way back down Powell. She knew of only one and we pulled in.

I got out of the car to give the attendant, a (ok I KNOW I am going to get in trouble here,,,,but I HAVE to describe the situation IN DETAIL so you can picture it....ok?) thin, Asian fellow with a tan ball-cap on, my locking gas-cap key. When I did, he asked me "Card, or cash?" I don't really care for these stations where you have to go inside to pay, so I usually avoid them. I answered, "uhhhh," as I took a second or two to register that this, indeed, was one of those stations. And while I took that second or two, maybe three, this fellow...just grabs the hose, puts it in my car, turns on the gas, and simply walks away, without waiting for my answer. I was bewildered and questioning..."What just happened?"

I thought, "hmmmmm, maybe I'm just supposed to put the card in myself, like at Costco." I started to put my card in the card reader, and he walked back over towards me, and said, "You have to go inside and pay." I looked at the guy, and said, "You didn't wait for my answer." He said, "What do you want me to do now?" Then he walked away again. How rude, I thought. This guy is really rude.

Well, I went inside and approached the counter. Ok. Again, I have to say this just to give a complete description of what happened. At the counter was an Asian woman. I said, "I'm really really irritated at your man out there. He asked me whether I wanted to pay by card or cash, then he just walks away and doesn't wait for my answer. He was also very rude." She just looked at me, took my card and ran the sale. Everyone was acting like nothing I had to say about anything was even being heard. I got even MORE irritated. Then, I looked down at the counter, and there were these caramels sitting in a little box. You know the kind. Those little "home made" caramels with the twisty wax paper wrapping? Those are the ones. Well.....oh Lord, forgive me.....I reached into the box, took out a caramel, and said, "You know what? I'm taking this caramel for how irritated I am!" And I walked out. I got in my car, turned to see the thin Asian man with the ball-cap walking very briskly across the area towards my car, yelling at me all the while. "You can't do that! You can't do that!" Oh I was really fired up by now! I opened my window and THREW the caramel at him, hit him right in the chest with it,,,,,and said, "You're a PUNK!" To which the thin Asian man with the ball cap retorted, "And you're a thief!"

When I told this story to my daughter later, she said, "Oh my god, Mom, what did you do then?" I said, "I peeled on out of there."

Winnie the Pooh-Poo

Oh gee! I had this fish! Ok, I had more than one fish. I have about four. Nothing big, mind you. Just four little Danio's in a little 2 1/2 gallon tank located in my downstairs bathroom. That all started when my granddaughter won a goldfish at an Easter thing at church, and what do you do with one goldfish. By the way, I am reminded to tell you, that first goldfish had a name. It was "LaFisha."

So I bought this little teeny aquarium and then a couple more fish, Danio's they are, and you know how it goes. What are Danio's. Danio's are a little itty bitty coldwater fish. The ones I have are kind of zebra-striped. They don't require much care, not like a tropical fish where the water has to be a just-so temperature and maybe even needs to be saltwater...oh, no way, none a'dat. When I asked the fellow at the "fish place" about caring for the little Danio's he said they were so hardy they could probably survive in chocolate milk!

So.....about this one little Danio.

When I got him, I noticed he was a little pig. Every time I put food in the tank, that one little Danio would go up and eat everything in sight! I could always tell him from the other fish, too. He was wierd looking. He had pointee snout that looked downright evil. Not like the other fish, who looked normal. So he was an evil, deformed, pig of a fish and he ate so much his belly was really big all the time. I got so irritated with his bad behavior that one day I even fished him out of the tank and put him in some water in a paper cup and told him I was taking him back to the store. But....I relented, and compassion took over, and I put him back finally to live in my home another day.

Inside the tank there is some gravel, a small air filter, a little aquatic frog, a snail, a bit of greenery, and a pretend-rock cave with some nice big holes in it. You know the kind. And the fishies like to swim in and out of it, the frog hides in there sometimes, and once in a while the snail travels in and out of it as well.

Uhhhhh....I have now discovered the rock cave has some "little holes".

I was in the bathroom two days ago, and I looked at the tank, and for pete's sake, what do I see,,,,,but that little evil, deformed, pig of a fish,,,,,,stuck in one of the little holes in the rock-cave, wiggling for all he was worth to get free!!! He's stuck half way thru the thing and he couldn't get out !!!!! Gooooooood grief! What do I do? What do I do? I thought, "Good Lord, if I put my finger against his 'nose', I am liable to crush him!" Well, I began to panic, and finally, I thought, "I will just reach in there and shake him loose, I guess!" And I did. I reached in and took the rock cave in my hand and began to create a rock cave earthquake, tapping it against the gravel bed backwards so as to free that little fish. Suddenly he broke free. I looked at that little fish, and sure enough I thought an evil thought. I thought, "Goood grief, little fish, you ate so much all the time that your belly was too big for you to get all the way thru that little hole in the rock cave!"

I thought to myself, "Fish, you now have a name. You remind me of Winnie the Pooh, when he ate so much honey at Rabbit's house, that he got stuck in the rabbit hole when he tried to leave and he couldn't get out! Your new name is Winnie...Winnie the Pooh." When I told Sis Bee the story she said his name should be Winnie the Pooh-Poo." Don't tell I said.

End of story: Winnie the Pooh-Poo did not survive the ordeal. He was buried today, not without a bit of sadness, where all little passed away fishies go. Well, he will be remembered. Of all the fishies I've had,,,,I guess I can say that for him at least.

The Bracelet

I go to a great church! I started going there in the late '70's (does that make me old or what!) when my kids were still kids. Ok,,,I went to some other churches from time to time, moving around and all, but this church, well this church is home. And there are still so many folks from whenever I started going there that are still there, it's downright heartwarming. One of those people that I treasure, always have, is my special friend, the pastor's wife. Most everyone calls her Sister Bee. I call her Mom. She's been like a Mom to me for as long as I can remember. And I love her with all my heart.

You need to know this. Sis Bee loves jewelry.

This Mother's Day her beautiful daughter gave her something really special---the loveliest, shiniest, flashiest bracelet and necklace to match. The bracelet was similar to a tennis bracelet, but the cubic Z's were "O's" and the links were all silver "M's"...so it spelled "M-O-M-O-M-O-M" all around her wrist when she wore it. The necklace was a circle on a silver chain, and it, too, spelled "M-O-M-O-M" as the letters formed the circle in silver links and cubic Z's. Just plain stunning!
And as sweet a lady as Sis Bee is, I told her, the "M-O-M's" turned upside down spelled "W-O-W-O-W", too!


Now the story.....

This last Sunday evening at church service a number of the young people were going up for prayer. The Holy Spirit was moving in a mighty and precious way, and believers all over the auditorium were worshipping the Lord, lost in the Spirit. Some of the young people began to return to their seats, and I noticed one little girl was dangling a flashy-looking piece of jewelry from her fingers. My first thought was, "That looks like Sister Bee's bracelet." But my rational mind took over and I didn't act on the thought. My second thought was, "That's quite a flashy-looking bracelet for such a little girl to have." Again, my rational mind took over and I didn't act on the thought. A third thought flitted through my mind, "Put the nab on that little girl and ask to see that bracelet." Gee, you think by now, my rational mind would have gotten a clue, but no, I did not act on that thought either.

But, God was not finished yet.

A few moments later, several of these little girls who had gone up for prayer, were now back over by where I was sitting, and they began to raise a bit of a ruckus. They were running back and forth, just being a little wild and silly. By now, I had forgotten all about the flashy piece of jewelry the one little girl was dangling around. What I did notice was that all the adults who normally keep an eye on these little kids were pretty much all lost in the Spirit of the Lord and the little ones were getting a bit out of hand. My friend next to me commented that someone ought to do something. Well, I just got up, and went up to the group of little girls who were acting up and said in as nice a way as I could, "Girls, please go sit down." All the girls began to settle except for two. They took off and headed for the foyer of the church. I was a little concerned - what if they went outside, I thought. So I followed them. Hopefully they were just headed for the bathroom. They saw me, and they did head for the bathroom. I followed the girls into the bathroom, and spoke to them. "Hi girls, how are you doing?" "Fine," giggle, giggle. "My name is Marilyn. What are your names?" I asked them. "Miciah," one said. "Samantha," said the other. "It's nice to meet you," said I. "See you back inside, okay?" said I, and I left the bathroom, and waited til they came out and headed back inside the sanctuary.

After service, I started to leave. I had even gotten into my car and started it, when I remembered I had not said "goodnight" to Sister Bee. I reparked my car and entered the church again, and found Sister Bee on the platform. The first words out of her mouth were, "I lost my bracelet," she said very downheartedly. I instantly had a revelation, "Oh my word!" I said, "I know who has it."

And I told her the story. It was Miciah who had the bracelet. And God had made sure, that if I didn't listen to any of His other prompts, that at the very least, I would find out her name. And I did. Sister Bee immediately called the gentleman who transported those children to and from the church for that evening's service. He ended up going directly to the home of that little girl in a matter of minutes, and he brought "Mom's" bracelet to her that night.

I talked to Mom about 11: 15 pm that night. We were both headed for bed. And I couldn't help but marvel at how our God is soooooo in the details. I also thought, "If He is so careful about these little things, why is it we can't trust Him with the big ones."

Jesus said, in Mark 11:22 "Have faith in God."

In fact, the organizers of the Bible, where the chapters and the verses begin and end and all, must have considered that verse so important, they gave it a verse all it's own!

The Tinfoil Tulip

There's a popular restaurant here in Portland. It's called Montage, located under one of the bridges over the Willamette River, and open til 4 a.m. Very popular with the late nite crowd, and great most anytime simply because of some of the unique aspects of the place. Their specialty is Cajun fare, and it's very good, and it's just a fun place to go -- has a seating concept that's rather unique. There are long sets of tables, covered in white linen table cloths, nice little glass held candles providing a charming lighting decor. When you are seated,,,,say there are just two of you,,,,you may indeed find yourself cozied up next to the couple to your left or right and before you know it, you may find yourself chatting away with your new acquaintances. And while you might be chatting away, the kitchen, which is in plain view, may be flaming away some new fiery dish, and the chefs can be heard to yell at the top of their lungs,,,whatever it is they might be yelling about at the time. The whole event is an experience you are not likely to forget, and probably one you will find yourself not only telling your friends about, but encouraging them to join you after a late movie, a night out....or....just for lunch or dinner. Doesn't matter. The fun goes from opening til close, and the food is always good. Oh, and for the price, definitely one of Portland's "cheap eats."

One more thing the Montage does that is especially fun in its own way is ... after you finish your meal, if you have leftovers, and -- well, let's say you SHOULD strive to have some leftovers -- you would like to take them home, just tell your waiter so, and he will take them to some magical place where he creates a tinfoil sculpture with your leftovers, the likes of which you have never seen. Ok. Maybe not never.

The other evening my daughter went to the Montage with some friends for a bite of dinner, and sure enough, she came home with her own, very own tinfoil sculpture, the likes of which you've never seen. This one was a good three and a half feet high, a long, tall stem with a giant tulip fashioned at the top. The whole affair was quite lavish and fun. Now I was hanging out in the family room when my daughter came home with this flamboyant thing,,,and she had a dilemma. She wanted my grandaughter to see the tinfoil extravaganza in the morning when she awoke for school, but at the same time she wanted to have the leftovers for her lunch. Well, she couldn't very well just leave the sculpture out all night for my grandaughter to see it without risking the little -- very little, mind you -- ball of leftovers at the bottom of the giant tulip -- which little ball of leftovers created a rather stabilizing base for the otherwise would-be very floppy tulip thing. My daughter mulled over the dilemma in the kitchen, and expressed her puzzlement out loud, "What should I do?" I thought for a moment and said, "Well, we could get a pan of ice, put the tinfoil tulip in a strainer on top of the ice,,,that would let the cold come up and keep your leftovers chilled,,,and that should work!" Hmmmmmm, we both thought. Worth a try. So we did just that. And there the tinfoil tulip resided throughout the rest of the night.

Now comes the morning. I heard about this later, by the way. But it was just as funny in retrospect as it must have been at the time. Apparently my grandaughter saw the creation before my daughter had a chance to "show and tell." So my 8 yo grandaughter came to the bottom of the stairs and called up to her mom.

"Mom."

"Mom?"

My daughter came to the top of the stairs, and answered her, "What?"

My 8 yo grandaughter says to her mother, "Mom, what's up with the foil flower!?"